Madness in the Eyes of the Beholder
by Sami-Fire
Summary: Richter has a mental breakdown and tries to sort himself out. That's the long and short of it, really.


Author's Notes:

This was written during two separate bouts of insomnia (from 3 to 4 AM each time), and it shows in the clunky transitions and general heavy-handedness. I tried to flesh out Richter's mental processes a bit, and… didn't really succeed. I was trying to figure out how he went from (relatively) sane at the Temple of Darkness to that growling mess at the Cape Fortress when I wrote this. Meh… it's alright, I guess.

* * *

I'm sitting here, curled into ball in a corner of my room, and I think I may finally be having a breakdown.

...If that's not an understatement, I don't know what is. I'm shaking. My thoughts are running around like deranged animals. Worse yet, they're TALKING animals. And they're all repeating the same names, over and over again: Aster. Emil. Ratatosk. Aster. Emil. MAKE IT STOP ALREADY!

Today has been an absolute nightmare. The trouble started when I heard that Emil and the others had made their way to the Vanguard base. I hadn't seen Emil since the Temple of Darkness, when he used that strange Arte on me. It was similar to the attack that killed Aster... the attack that I strive to be able to counter at any cost. I drew a rather hasty- but not impossible- conclusion: could Emil actually be Ratatosk? ...That's ridiculous. They're as different as night and day. That one idea still just kept turning itself over in my head. I decided to push that idea aside after a while and focus on Marta. If I saw her, she would die, and no one would stop me from killing her. Not even Emil. Absolutely not even Emil.

So, when I stood there, with one hand around that boy's neck and the other on my axe, I was more than ready to do the deed. He was the only one still standing, anyway. Get Emil out of the way, and taking the core from Marta would be simple. And then I could go on to my next step...

But it didn't happen. Maybe I looked at him for too long. His bright green eyes suddenly looked like they were a darker green, like Aster's. That was all it took to break my resolve. I couldn't convince myself that I wasn't strangling Aster. The memories just kept coming back- everything from the day Aster and I first met to the day he was killed in front of me. Then a fight broke out in my mind, with one side shouting, "Don't do it! There's a chance that you may be killing Aster again!" The other side just called me an idiot and told me to shut up and kill him. "It's that simple, so just do it."

The first side won. No matter how obscure the chances were, I would not have Aster die a second time. I loosened my grip, muttering Aster's name by accident. I had to get out of there before I changed my mind.

Emil isn't a bad kid. I think Aster would probably a field day with him and his insecurities, but he's not bad at all. I guess I'll even admit that I don't really mind "mentoring" him, and especially not the respect he gives me in return. I think I know how Aster felt in the beginning, having to put up with all of my own insecurities. But could I really do for Emil what Aster did for me? How could I possibly kill someone that I could help like that? …I'm back to thinking about Aster, and what he would do about Emil's situation. It's really starting to bother me how every thought of Emil turns into something about Aster.

And that's why I'm sitting here in a corner, curled up in a ball and shaking like some lunatic. All the names keep going around in my head: Aster. Emil. Ratatosk. Emil. Aster.

I can't take much more of this. I'll just make a decision and then get some rest.

...Next time I see Emil, I will not let my memories get in the way. Emil is Emil. He is not and never will be Aster. Emil guards Marta, the girl I must kill to retrieve Ratatosk's core and complete my mission. That is all that matters. That wasn't so hard, was it?

...

Yes, it was. Aster, Aster, Aster, Aster, Aster, Aster, Aster... When I finally bring you back, I'll make it all up to you. Or at least as much as I'll be able to. And Emil… what am I going to do about you?

Being mad with grief is tiring…


End file.
